-tfFatherjf State Societies11 5s World's Champion Brewer of Coffee
On His Second Million Gallons, AfysClJ SIllpS ;4 New SCFICS 6f Exciting Sea StoHeS
Clark H. I arsons Sets unique
Mark As Prolific Coffee Maker
THEY slapped the hands ot
little Clark H. Parsons 75
years ago on an Iowa farm be
cause he howled for coffee.
Deep In his young spirit a re
sentment fizzled and stewed. So,
they wouldn't give him coffee!
Well, he'd show 'em!
Little Clark obediently plowed
and milked until he was old
enough to go away to college. He
drank five cups of coffee a day at
Lennox college, taught school In
Iowa, brooded over books and
stationery counters In Salt Lake
City and then, In 1898, an enthu-
I V V"H
... MtA
Clark Parsons, 81-year-old
"Father of State Plonlos," who
has made more coffee than any
other person the world ever
knew. He brews It In 100-gallon
tanks and has served It to men
and women from every corner
of the United States.
slastic coffee brewer with
enormous ambition, he came to
the Pacific coast.
Settling down to a lumber busi
ness near Los Angeles, he began
to bump into former lowans. The
whole end of the state was alive
with them, all bumping into one
another. One day In 1800, Clark
Pi!" sons coneeived his great Idea.
With a whoop of Joy his cup of
stcnmlng coffee dropped un
noticed to tha Hour.
Not long afterwards, while the
Springtime (lowers of 11100 still
were sweetly abloom, he was
bustling about Los Angeles busier
than a hen with 40 chicks. That
year there was founded the Iowa
State Society of California, and
at its first gala picnic none other
than gay Clark Parsons was
brewing the coffee and pouring It
into tin cups.
FROM then on, life took a new
glow for the one-time farm lad
whose hands had been slappedi
He was destined to make coffee
in larger quantities than it had
ever been made before. While
waiting multitudes held out tin
cups, he was to brew coffee in
100 gallon tanks and stir it with
a five-foot staff. He organized
state after state and set Southern
California afire with picnic fever.
By April 24, 1B0D, acknowl
edged leader of one of the great
est mass organizations of the
West, he was ready to federate
hlB many state societies, and he
did it in one masterful campaign.
Years whisked by unobserved
by the father of state picnics.
Kansans, Nebraskans, Missouri
ans, Texans and many others
swelled each year's picnic
throngs. Always presiding over
the coffee, exulting like some
strange spirit of picnicdom, eter
nally busy, the life and soul of
the party, was Clark Parsons.
At the hey-day of the picnic
business, in 1928 and 1929, he had
38 state societies meeting each
month. He attended at least one
picnic or indoor meeting every
day the year around, and he
never tired of making coffee. He
loved to make It. At some of the
larger picnics he looked up, from
his labors by the vats, and gazed
out over the tens of thousands of
former "out-of-staters."
THEN, of course, the bottom
fell out of the picnic business,
but times are better now and
Clark Parsons, at 81, is busier
than ever. He hasn't missed a
day's work since he had measles
In boyhood.
He avoids photographers as he
would avoid hostile machine gun
ners. He wears a felt hat almost
as old as himself, and he has
more energy than an airedale
pup. He brews coffee in bigger
vats than ever and is now on his
second million gallons, according
to his owri estimate. Ho has made
fnr more coffee than any other
person In the world, he believes.
In fact, he figures that If all the
tin cups he has filled with coffee
were stacked one on top another,
the shining, steaming stack would
be 757 miles high.
POETIC bnllHds presented in
public squares! Srhools of po
etry In every Pnclflr. Const city!
Thousnmls of monuments by West
ern artists! Citizens alive to the
talent of their own community!
These are events of the near
future, visualized by John Masc
flold, England's poet laureate, as
he chatted about Western art and
artists luring a roccnt vli'.l to
San Francisco.
Ho had just visited Colt's
Tower on San Francisco's Telo-
r-
Poet Laureate Sees West v
As Art Center Of Future
John Masefield, Visiting United States, Believes
Public Enthusiasm Is Near
you call Colt's Tower, is a splen
did example of the help your ar
tists need. You hnve changed my
'mayn't' to 'may.' You are recog
nizing what 1 felt when I came
West.
"I expect to see the day when
there will be groups of artists
giving dramas and poetic ballads
In Union Square and other public
parks. I seo no reason why every
city in tho West should not hnvo
Its outdoor group of poets in out
door schools, learning to write and
recito as well. It Is Inevitable."
POET MASEFIELD feels that
artists cannot help but pro
duce In tho climate of tho West.
"Tho gray skies of England are
very different. You do not. out
hero, fully realize what a source
of energy you have 111 the sun."
Poetry can be as practical as
any other work, he believes. "It
Is too often divorced from his fit
ting accompaniment, which are
costume, color, and music. H tins
been severely handicapped by tin
pr luting press, for gixxl poetry
should be recited or chnntcil
aloud. Not ninny people like to
read to themselves, and a book of
poetry may lie Idle for a hundred
years In-fore It finds Its proper
lvader. Then It comes to life -through
a voice"
The old days of poetry, he be
lieves, are returning. "At one
time," he said, "a mei would re
cite versus In the street and stop
t'littlc with the beauty of his
words Then he became a vaga
bond, pntronlrnl. but looked down
upon."
JOHN MASKFIKI.D loves the
West, and experts to return
again nnd ngnin. "The variety
beauty, anil fertility of your
mountains, valleys and deserts,
gives a panornniH of abundance
Bliuh the western artist cannot
Ignore."
1
. V
f i '
' J
John Maiefieltt
graph IMII. studying the work of
mural artists done undor govern
ment suervlsion. This endeavor
is what he had In mind before
visiting the Tower-when he com
posed four lines, so far unpub
lished in his works. He quoted
himself aloud:
"Friends, give the artist folk
your pity.
They live within the glorious
city
Which they'd make lirauliful
with paint,
Hronite nnd marble hut they
mayn't. "
"This cenotaph." he said, "which
PAGE EIGHT
This is the first of a series ot
tea tales that will keep you
fascinated and, perhaps, puz
zled as well. Strangely, the sea
has taken toll of men and ships
without leaving any trace of
what caused 'he tragedies.
Watch turther stories of
mystery ships they will ap
pear regularly in this magazine.
Editor.
The Mary Celeste
THE weather had been calm for
weeks ... a light breeze that
sailing men like.
Mary Celeste was painted on
her stern a strange brig, run
ning aimlessly before the wind,
her jib and foremast staysail set.
She was a ship without a crew.
The master of the Dei Gratia
overhauled her 300 miles off
Gibraltar on a December day in
1K72. Silence answered his hall.
He lowered a boat and pulled
across to tho brig.
No one was at the wheel, no
man on deck. A search was made
from end to end: the ship was in
perfect condition, with plenty of
food and water.
Clothes hung on a line to dry,
and in the galley were ashes of
a fire. The table was laid for
bieakfast, which was half eaten.
A cargo of alcohol remained be
low. She was deserted, but how?
Ihe life-boat still hung on the
davits!
THIRTEEN people were aboard,
according to Lloyd's Register
Captain Briggs (an intensely
pious man), his wife, child and
crew of 10. .
Not one of them was ever seen
again, though inquiries and In
vestigations have been made by
half the maritime world, and a
dozen theories offered..
Did the crew mutiny? The
bows were slightly scratched as
if by a sharp Instrument; a cut
lass was smeared with what may
have been blood; one barrel of
alcohol was breached, and the
chronometer and bills of lading
were missing. No other signs of
violence were found.
Did the crew get at the alcohol,
murder the Captain, his family.
and escape to another vessel?
Where did they escape to and
without the use of a boat?
Was the Captain a religious
lYinntAC ? His cabin contained
many religious books, and he
was unusually devout Did his
reason snap like the spring of a
watch, as he decided to put his
wife and child and crew out of
the misery of a wicked world?
Did he attack them one by one
and throw them overboard and
In despair follow when his mad
ness passed?
Their fate is one of the famous
unsolved mysteries of the sea.
Amateur detectives and seamen
speculate and argue, but find no
satisfactory answer.
One writer, a student of sea
mysteries, recalls that at least six
"solutions" to the puzzle were
published at various times. All
purported to be based on evidence
of survivors yet all failed to bear
the light of subsequent investiga
tion. The mystery remains un
solved to this day.
The Mary Celeste was one of
those hoodoo ships "built in the
eclipse, and rigged with curses
dark."
VARIED
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